


Are you scared of ghosts?

by Butterfish



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Love, M/M, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfish/pseuds/Butterfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred thinks back on growing up together with Arthur and how they came to love each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are you scared of ghosts?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haku](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Haku).



Arthur Kirkland was someone who just happened to live in our house. Mom said that he'd had a rough childhood with no one to take care of him, but I wasn't sure what she meant. Everyone has a mummy and a daddy and they're supposed to look after you. But I thought that maybe Arthur had just gotten lost and couldn't find them. At least he had to stay at ours until things got better for him. I was eight at the time he moved in and he'd just turned eighteen. He had tall, blue hair and played a lot of guitar when alone in the living room. He said it was Sex Pistols, but I never saw him carry a gun.

I don't think he liked me very much because I rummaged through his stuff whenever he was out, but the one time he spanked me after breaking his recorder Mom yelled at him for hours. She said that he should be the first one to know how much it hurts to be hit. That made Arthur cry for hours. Though my butt hurt, I knew I wasn't supposed to complain. Arthur had it worse. I just didn't know in what way.

We didn't have a lot of space, so Arthur ended up staying in the basement. He seemed strangely happy about it. I didn't like the basement because it was cold and filled with ghosts. Generally I believed our house to be haunted. At night I could hear them howling outside my window. When I was younger, Mom let me sleep in her bed when I got scared, but after I turned eight, she said I had to stop being such a kid. "There's no such thing as ghosts!" she told me and locked the bedroom door. But on television there were lots of ghosts all the time and they made people's life miserable. I didn't know why Mom couldn't hear them whisper at night, but sometimes it got too much for me and I would run and hide in the bathtub. But I couldn't do that after Arthur moved in. His room was right next to the bathroom and I was scared of waking him up and having him spank me.

Still one night I couldn't sleep. Something was knocking against my window, and as it kept going, I jumped out of bed and fled downstairs to the bathroom. Arthur was standing out there putting black stuff around his eyes as I stumbled in, and he turned and looked at me surprised. I thought he was going to yell at me, but instead he kneeled down and looked at me concerned.

"What're you doing up?" he asked me.

"There's a ghost in my room," I whispered. He kept staring at me and I started to shake. I was worried he would write me off as a sissy like Mom had. "There really is," I insisted.

"That's no good," Arthur said and shook his head. "Ghosts are not supposed to be mean." I was surprised by his calmness and stuttered:

"You believe in ghosts?"

"Believe in them?" he repeated and stood back up with a grin. "Boy, I see them all the time." I just looked at him. With his blue hair put up and the black stuff on his eyelids, he looked a little like a ghost himself.

"Why're you dressing up?" I asked him. He didn't answer me but just turned back to watch himself in the mirror. "Mom says you're not supposed to get drunk…"

"I know," he said. We just stood there for a while without neither of us saying anything, but then he stretched his hand towards me and I grabbed at it. "What do you normally do when ghosts scare you?"

"I hide in the tub," I said and nodded towards it. Arthur looked at it with a grin.

"That's no good. That's no protection. Come here." His fingers closed around my hand and I followed him as we walked out of the bathroom and into his room. It was like opening the door to another world. I'd not seen his room after he moved down here and I'd not even dared to peek in. But now he showed it off to me.

The walls had been painted blue and filled with posters of odd men and women. He'd gotten an old sofa to sleep on and a desk to work at as he was trying to get into college. So far he'd filled it with books and cigarettes. I looked towards them as he led me to the sofa and let go of my hand. "If you want to get rid of a ghost, you need to be in a safe room."

"Is this a safe room?" I asked him, "because mine surely isn't!"

"This is a safe room," he nodded and sat down at his desk. I sat down on the edge of the sofa. "I've cast a spell in here," he continued. He was smiling oddly while saying it.

"You're lying, aren't you?" I asked him.

"Well, do you feel safe?" I looked around again. There was nothing special about the basement, but it didn't feel as cold as it used to. Maybe Mom had turned on the heat. But it felt nice.

"I do," I nodded.

"Well, then it has worked, hasn't it?" I nodded again and Arthur laughed and I spent the rest of the night reading his worn comics until I fell asleep on his sofa. The next morning I woke up in my own bed, but every day since then I went to Arthur's room when I needed protection from the ghosts.

 

 

Arthur took a loan to afford college and suddenly he only had space for homework on his desk. Things seemed to go fast for him. The same guy who'd almost just moved into our home with his cigarettes and bad attitude was now a proper man. Meanwhile I'd only become a teenager and that was pretty much it. As Arthur got work at the local café to earn some extra money, I would come by every day after classes to see him. He'd given up on keeping his hair blue and tall, and instead he had gotten a neat, short haircut. His blond locks looked good put up with a bit of wax and his green eyes shun more brightly when they weren't lined up with black. The local girls swooned for him and I felt annoyed whenever they would order a cup of coffee and then handed him their number. Mom said that it was nice that he was finally getting some positive attention, but somehow I'd liked him better when he was still a tad of a moron.

When I sneaked down to stay in Arthur's room, he would often be busy doing his homework or hanging out with friends. Mom told me not to bother him when he was together with his mates, but I hated seeing him laughing and having fun without me. As he turned twenty-four, he got a girlfriend and I hated her before I even knew her name. They would fool around in our garden in the summer, kissing and holding hands and looking like they were in love, and Mom would serve her lemonade and home-baked cake. She said they looked so well together. I thought they looked like a joke.

One night I sat up listening to music as I caught a glimpse of Arthur outside. He was sitting alone in the dark smoking a cigarette and looking at the stars. I thought he was supposed to be together with his girlfriend, but she'd left an hour earlier and he'd waved goodbye to her without coming back in. As he finally got up and headed for the door, I leapt downstairs to meet him in his room.

"What were you doing outside?" I asked him as he was just about to close his door. He looked at me surprised. His cheeks were red from the cold and his breath reeked of nicotine.

"Just smoking," he said.

"Why's your girl not here?" I asked and he smiled softly.

"What are you, jealous?" I didn't answer and he opened the door for me so that I could come in. Arthur's room had changed. The walls were still blue, but there were no posters on them and the guitar he had standing in the corner of the room had gotten dusty. I hardly ever heard him play on it. I sat down on the edge of his sofa and looked at him as he started to change into a nightshirt. He had a lean, bright body and I found myself unable to look away as we continued talking.

"Why did she leave?" I asked.

"I told her to," he answered calmly and took off his pants. He had some soft, curly hair around the line of his underwear. I watched it bob up and down as he walked to his closet.

"Why?"

"Sometimes in a relationship, one wants more from the other than what the person is willing to give." I crinkled my brows.

"Come again?" He smiled at me lazily.

"You'll understand."

"I am fourteen. I do understand. Did she turn you down when you said you wanted to fuck?" Arthur laughed and shushed at me.

"I don't think your mom wants you to use such language."

"Did she?" Arthur dragged a white shirt over his head and sighed.

"No, I turned her down." I laughed because I thought it was a joke, but Arthur just smiled at me sweetly and sat down next to me on the sofa.

"What guy would do that!" I cried amused.

"A stupid one like me?" he suggested.

"Why were you with her if you didn't want to sleep with her?"

"Well," Arthur said and tugged at his duvet as he slipped down to lie on the sofa. He dragged it over his body and looked at me. "Sometimes grown ups do things to seem happy. When they're not." He was still smiling, but the tone of his voice was grave and I knew not to question him further. "I want to sleep now," he said hinting. I nodded and got up, but as I was about to head for the door, I cleared my throat:

"Can I sleep here?" Arthur blinked and looked at me puzzled.

"Why?"

"There are ghosts in my room," I lied casually. Arthur laughed at me, but still he pulled up his duvet and gestured for me to come closer. I took off my clothes and slipped onto the sofa to lie next to him. His body was as warm as mine as he put his arm around me. And it felt just right.

 

 

Two years later Arthur had become a full-fledged, single lawyer. Needless to say he still made women swoon. As he moved from our home and got a flat in the big city, I took my time growing up. I got pimples and bullied and Mom had to arrange for me to change school. I wasn't sure why, but I felt very different and I didn't want to be different. The words Arthur had spoken to me were repeated in my head over and over again:

_Sometimes grown ups do things to seem happy. When they're not._

The closest school for me was in the big city as well. Mom felt bad about asking Arthur to take me in when he'd just "escaped" from me, as she called it. But Arthur didn't seem to mind. He said that he wanted to pay my Mom back for all she'd done for him.

We all made a plan together; I would live at his at schooldays, but at weekends and holidays I would go home to my Mom's place. From the moment I moved in at Arthur's I never felt like going home and I think he wouldn't have mind having me around had my Mom not insisted on me going back to see her.

Suddenly things changed at school. I stopped having pimples and I decided to become someone everyone could like. I started working out and got muscles and a pretty face, and soon the girls were swooning when they saw me. Just as they had done back when Arthur was younger. My grades weren't the best despite how many times Arthur would sit together with me at night and correct my essays and maths, but I got a small job at a restaurant cleaning the dishes, so I could afford smart clothes and cool shoes. Everyone seemed to think that because of my looks, my intelligence mattered less. Soon I had three girlfriends I juggled between.

"You're wasting your life," Arthur told me as I was getting ready to leave for the weekend. I was going to spent it at my girlfriend's house instead of at my Mom's. I looked at him indifferent.

"But Mom said it was okay," I said.

"That's not what I meant," Arthur sighed and he looked me up and down. There was a fondness to his eyes, but he turned his back to me before I got to look at it more closely. "You're a smart kid. You should do something with that brain instead of just using it to get your cock hard."

"Fuck you," I spat. "If you could, you would have me staying here every night just watching stupid television-shows with you." As he looked at me, I could tell that he would and something inside of me broke. I left quickly and we never discussed that situation again.

 

 

As I entered high school I realised that girls didn't make me hard and that I had no idea what to do with myself. Everyone liked me, but I hated what I saw in the mirror. I would often cry myself to sleep at night when at my Mom's, because she was getting old and she couldn't hear me when I bawled. One night, however, I couldn't stop the tears from coming out when still at Arthur's. That day at school I'd gotten hard, but that was during PE while looking at the coach. I knew something was wrong with me.

"Did you see a ghost?" Arthur joked as he turned on the light in my room and stepped in. I turned in my bed and glared at the wall.

"Fuck off," I mumbled. He didn't. The light was turned off again, but instead of leaving he walked across the carpet and sat down on the edge of my bed. His slim fingers slipped through my hair.

"Hey, soldier," he said, "what's up?" And I started bawling again until he lied down next to me and hugged me in close to his chest. I couldn't speak. I simply couldn't tell him what I'd experienced, but it was as if he knew without having to have me put my life into words. He shushed at me and petted my hair and pecked my cheek, and somehow I turned my head and pecked his lips, and before I knew what happened, I had my hands buried in his hair as we kissed heavily and for long. I knew something was wrong when I felt the spit between our lips grow and his tongue meet with mine and his deep breathing turning into huffs of pleasure, but I didn't want to stop.

That night we fell asleep in my bed lying with our arms around each other while whispering to ourselves that what we'd done was okay.

 

 

From that day on we couldn't stop ourselves. I lied to my Mom about going to see girlfriends at weekends, but instead I stayed at home with Arthur and we would spend the night kissing and touching and just doing whatever felt good. We both knew it was a secret that shouldn't be let out, but we didn't regret a thing. When I looked into his eyes and grinned brightly and he smiled back at me, I knew that what we felt for each other was something I couldn't feel for anyone else. Arthur was my Arthur and it had always been so and it should stay like that forever.

But as I turned twenty and had just started in college, one of my classmates revealed us as a couple. He'd often seen Arthur and I when we sneakily held hands in public or stole a quick kiss on our way down the stairs in the apartment complex, but he'd never thought much of it until I became his classmate. Everyone heard about it. Mom heard about it. She called me a victim and Arthur a fag, and Arthur cried because he was sure he'd taken advantage of me.

"You're despicable!" Mom yelled at him when she came to pick up my stuff. "I did all this for you, and this is how you repay me? You're a monster!" Arthur had looked at me for help and I will never forget his wet, tearful eyes. But I simply couldn't stay. With everything happening around me, I slowly started to think myself a victim. Being gay was awful. It had given me nothing but pain, I was convinced of that, so I put on my jacket and left with my Mom.

For the next ten years I didn't see nor hear anything from Arthur.

 

 

Mom died shortly after I turned twenty-eight. She died from age. I spent two years just looking after her and going to work. I'd ended up as a carpenter as college was never my thing, but with Mom gone I was left to rethink my life as it was.

I'd tried having girlfriends in the years that followed leaving Arthur, but it never worked out for me. The more Mom told me that it was all Arthur's fault for ruining me mentally, the less I believed in it and I found myself lying at night just thinking back at the man who made me feel happy. Still it took me yet two years to gain the courage to look up his name.

To my surprise Arthur still lived in the same city. He'd opened up his own law-firm and was doing quite well according to the online statistics. When I saw his photo on the website, I felt worried about visiting him. He'd aged, no doubt, but he was still as beautiful as I remembered him to be. His green eyes were still big and shiny, his hair shorter and a tad more grey, but he looked like a man; a proper man and a good guy. I felt sick for ever thinking he could be else.

How do you greet people after not having seen them for ten years? I thought about calling him, but what if he'd since gotten a wife who would pick up the phone? I also wondered about writing him a letter, but a letter can get lost and then maybe he would never get it and I would never get an answer. I couldn't risk that. I would have to show up and meet him somewhere in the city. So I went on a research. I found out that his office was right next to the local park, and in a hurry I got myself dressed up and the following Monday I was waiting outside the building for him to be off at five.

He didn't recognize me right away. He strolled out of the building in a fine suit and headed for the park, and I had to hurry to catch up with him. As I touched his shoulder and he turned around, his first reaction was to shake his head and say:

"No, I am not up for that kind of service today." But then he took an extra look at me. And a third. And he dropped his bag to the ground as I smiled and nodded.

"It's been long," I said and he nodded.

"It has…" I hadn't prepared anything to say and looking back I know that was a mistake, but I just shrugged and looked down and cleared my throat.

"I hope you're not… angry with me."

"Are you still with me?" he asked and I shook my head.

"Of course not!" We looked at each other. Then he mumbled:

"Um, would you like to have a cup of tea with me?" and I nodded with a smile:

"If you have the time." And he did.

 

 

It's now been five years since we had our cup of tea and heavy kissing on the backseat of a cab, and these days I'm the one holding Arthur close whenever he tells me ghosts are visiting him. I am not sure if he mean real ghosts or ghosts from the past haunting his memory, but I always hug him and tell him that he's safe in my embrace. That nothing can hurt us anymore. And that I'll always be with him.

This time I feel sure of it. Because sometimes grown ups do things to seem happy when they're not. But we do this because we _are_ happy _._


End file.
